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Let us all ring Fancy's knell:
I'll begin it. Ding dong bell,


WHERE the bee sucks, there lurk I;
In a cowslip's bell I lie,
There I couch when owls do cry;
On the bat's back I do fly,
After sun-set merrily;
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.


COME away, come away death,

And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away breath,

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,

O prepare it;
My part of death no one so true

Did share it,

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

On my black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown, A thousand thousand sighs to save;

Lay me, O! where
True lover never find my grave,

To weep there!


“ Wuo is Silvia ? what is she,

“ That all our swains commend her ?"
Holy, fair, and wise is she,

The heav'ns such grace did lend her,
That she might admired be.

" Is she kind as she is fair?

For beauty lives with kindness :"
Love doth to her eyes repair,

To help him of his blindness ;
And, being help'd, inhabits there.

Then to Sylvia let us sing,

That Sylvia is excelling;

She excels each mortal thing

Upon the dull earth dwelling; To her let us garlands bring.


FEAR no more the heat o'th' sun,

Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages; Golden lads and girls all 'must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o'th' great,

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke, Care no more to clothe and eat,

To thee the reed is as the oak. The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust,

Fear no more the lightning flash,

Nor th' all-dreaded thunder stone; Fear no slander, censure rash,

Thou hast finish'd joy and moan.


UNDER the green-wood tree,
Who loves to lie with me,
And tune his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither;

Here shall he see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

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Who doth ambition shuu,
And loves to live i' the sun;
Seeking the food he eats,
And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither;

Here shall he see

No enemy
But winter and rough weather.


Being your slave what should I do, but tend

Upon the hours and times of your desire,
I have no precious time at all 10 spend,

Nor services to do till you require :
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour,

Whilst I, my sovereign ! watch the clock for you; Nor think the bitterness of absence sour

When you have bid your servant once adieu. Nor dare I question with my jealous thought, Where you may be, or your affairs

suppose; But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought Save where you are: how happy you make those ! So true a fool is love, that in your

will Tho' you do any thing, he thinks no ill.


WHEN as thine


hath chose the dame,
And stallid the deer that thou should'st strike,
Let reason rule things worthy blame,
As well as fancy * *

Take counsel of some wiser head,
Neither too young, nor yet unwed.

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